Monsters of the Revolution
by ahoot20
Summary: (Kenshin turned his face away from the city air and hid his nose in his scarf, wondering if this progression of ghosts would be the rest of his life. When he closed his eyes, he tried not to think of Tomoe.) After Tomoe's death, Kenshin struggles to justify his continued presence as a free sword serving the Choshu campaign.
1. Chapter 1

Punctuality had never been her greatest strength, so she found herself walking home late; the spoils of her shopping trip (tofu, rice, dried fish, cabbage…) slung haphazardly in a heavy bag over her right shoulder.

Yasuko had lost track of time at the market.

Again.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be becoming a bad habit, and heaven only knows how upset her husband would be if he found out she wasn't taking utmost precaution in safely traversing the warring city. Any idiot would know that the streets of Kyoto weren't safe for a woman walking alone after dark.

Looking behind her, she quickened her footsteps, focusing on the squelching sound her sandals made with each step on the cold ground for the lack of anything better to do. She was almost back to her family home, back to safety.

So deep was her focus that she almost walked past without stopping, without noticing that anything was amiss. But at the last second, she saw the flash of red out of the corner of her eye and turned around.

A body was sitting propped up against the wall of the building; eyes closed, blood oozing from a deep wound on his chest and spreading out like the veins of a spiderweb onto the stones below. His mouth was open, just a sliver, and Yasuko thought (but wasn't exactly sure) she could hear a low moan emanating from within his gullet.

The normal reaction, she supposed, would have been to scream and run, but instead she found herself staring—her eyes drawn to the corpse as if the two of them were the only things left on earth. She hated it; the morbid fascination…it made her feel guilty, unclean, somehow…responsible. It was ridiculous, feeling this way—she knew that it was not her fault in any way, shape, or form, she was simply an innocent bystander who happened to be the first to come upon the scene of someone's fresh kill; but the feeling was there—she couldn't let it go.

But then, impossibly, the cadaver opened its eyes (blue, BLUE, the same color as her mother's favorite kimono), and lunged forwards towards her as a terrible gagging sound filled her ears.

_It's come back to life! It was dead, but now it's back; a hungry ghost, a soul from the other side seeking revenge!_

The panic lasted only a second, then the rational part of her mind regained control and she realized that the man was still alive, injured but alive and struggling for breath, flighting to live.

It didn't matter who the man was—a Shinsengumi (though he wasn't one, not dressed in blue and white, she realized with relief), a Choshu, a Shogunate solider, or just an ordinary citizen; Yasuko knew instantly she had to at least try to help. Watching him die would be torture; that's not who she was, what she stood for. Neither would she just walk by, pretending she hadn't seen him. It was too late for that.

The grocery bag was dropped forgotten beside her, and she fell to her knees at his side. With no medical training, and only a small amount of skill with a needle and thread, she really did not know what to do. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking with nerves as she pulled aside his kimono to expose the wound.

_Surely he won't survive this_, she thought to herself, realizing that she could see the glimmer of bone amidst the flood of red.

The voice crashed into her world like a falling star.

"Hey, woman!," it said sharply from behind her, causing Yasuko to nearly jump out of her skin. _The killer_! In her panic she hadn't even thought about examining the scene to make sure she was alone, and he had remained somehow hidden in the shadows. _Stupid! Stupid! A fatal mistake!_

"This someone you know, little miss?"

She wanted to scream, _No! No! It wasn't someone I know; I was just walking by and stopped to try to help! I have two young sons and a husband to go home to, stop; please don't kill me!_ She wanted to beg for her life, wanted to grovel and cry, wishing for a reprieve, for mercy, for anything.. But it was too late and the blade was already at her throat, bearing through the soft flesh of her neck.

The world spun red, but as she fell she caught just the slightest detail. Blue. Blue and white. Moutains and air; Triangles stitched in neat little rows.

Shinsengumi.

-x-

The placid sight of moonrise could not have been more at odds with the cacophony of the Kyoto streets. A woman was

crying somewhere far away; her plaintive mews barely audible above the ripples of honest laughter from the tavern next door; men loudly shouting about a gambling debt; a neighbor boy arguing politics with his grandfather. Kenshin listened more deeply, tilting his head out towards the night. By angling his ears just so, he could judge the distance of even the most miniscule noises.

Somewhere in the city, someone was dying. Blood was weeping from a glimmering sword unto the dirty cobble. Drip. Drip. Drip. The noise drifted away with solemn finality, barely even there to begin with. Was it really there? He pretended it wasn't. Gritted his teeth and pretended, like he was Kogoro, and ignoring others' suffering was something he did every day. He felt badly for blaming Katsura so deeply, but lately Tomoe's voice had been haunting his every waking hour and it was easier to blame someone than blame no one.

Katsura's words from years ago came back to him: _Blood can forge life; death pays for peace. And peace is certainly a precious thing; isn't it, Kenshin?… _

Kenshin turned his face away from the city air and hid his nose in his scarf, wondering if this progression of ghosts would be the rest of his life.

When he closed his eyes, he tried not to think of Tomoe.

It was the first time in weeks Katsura had asked him to work, and he wasn't even sure why he accepted the request. Maybe part of him deep down still cared about ushering in change, about the revolution, but he wasn't sure. It was important work. As a free sword of Choshu, he had been asked to serve as guard tonight for a decisive meeting, a meshing of great strategists and historical rivals from the military domains of Choshu and Satsuma. He understood that, if they worked out an alliance, it would be a vital step towards gaining the upper hand against the forces of the Shogunate and the Shinsengumi. Of course, the specifics of such a meeting were kept far above him, but he wanted to know, wanted to help. Anything to end this mess of bloodshed and death he had gotten himself caught up in.

The building was one that Choshu had used before, a nondescript abandoned dojo on the east side of Kyoto. Kenshin did not anticipate trouble, but one could never be too sure in such volatile times. His blade was ready at his side, diamond-sharp and ready to howl.

On the other side of the doorway stood a second guard, a man Kenshin did not know, dressed casually in dark gray with red trim, with two blades tucked into his belt. Kenshin went out of his way to ignore him, for no reason whatsoever except for the fact that he was angry and depressed and didn't want to talk to another human being, especially one he did not know. Kenshin could sense the warm glow of his chi, deep and calm like a vast windless ocean.

The other guard ignored him right back, an expression of sleepy boredom painted on his face like a mask. At least he wasn't staring; most footsoldiers couldn't take their eyes off his crimson hair and cross-shaped scar. Kenshin was glad; if the man had recognized him as Battousai and said anything, he might have snapped and done something he would have regretted. It seemed odd that another guard should even be necessary—was Battousai alone not enough? Apparently the meeting was vital enough to warrant extreme overkill in terms of security.

Ten minutes later and the players had finally begun to arrive.

Kenshin stared emptily at Kogoro Katsura as he passed through the doorway, astonished that this man was the same person who had recruited him from Hagi two long years ago. How young and innocent (_naïve!_) he had been…

Closing his eyes, Kenshin remembered that day like it was yesterday; the bitter taste of tea in his mouth at Kogoro's residence, the fear in his stomach as he thought about the blood he would spill. And spill he had. Enough blood to paint the streets red, but not enough to slake the thirst of the Revolution, which kept barreling along with the force of an earthquake. Would it ever be enough? He doubted it. When Tomoe's eyes flashed up in his skull again, he shook his head and tried to block it out.

The Choshu leader looked like he had aged a decade; lines of heavy stress ran like faultlines across Kogoro's forehead. He didn't acknowledge Kenshin as he passed, but kept his head down. Kenshin was glad. The other leaders did the same as they followed him in, apparently not wanting to draw attention to the legendary former-hitokiri Battousai, even if most of them knew precisely who he was. Takasugi Shinsaku and Yamagata Aritomo walked in next side-by-side, talking to each other in quiet whispers. Ito Hirobumi, a man whom Kenshin recognized by sight but did not know well, followed behind, dressed elaborately in Choshu red and white. These four were cornerstones of Choshu military, all men whom Kenshin valued with respect and admiration. Idealists, all of them. People who wanted to sculpt an era of peace and advancement out of the chaos of the Bakumatsu. People who cared about the future of Japan more than they cared about their own lives.

But the next quartet of attendees was the most important; Saigo Takamori and Okubo Toshimichi of Satsuma, the two men walked with the same gait, as if they knew each like brothers. Saigo stood, a beast of a man, towering above Kenshin's frame and brimming with powerful chi. He was red-faced and balding, well over twice Kenshin's 16 years. The other man had to be Okubo Toshimichi; also tall, but thin and wiry, with long limbs sure to give him a good reach with his katana. His hair was pulled back into a tight, dark bun. They both ignored him as well; this time Kenshin doubted they even knew who he was. It was nice to be anonymous for a change.

The final set was Sakamoto Ryoma and Nakaoka Shintaro, another pair of close friends—this time from Tosa. Sakamoto in particular was the driving force behind the treaty, as a neutral party who had no stake in the Satsuma-Choshu rivalry, he had worked to bring the two factions together in what promised to be a tenuous agreement. Kenshin knew very little about them, besides their names, but his admired especially Ryoma's warm eyes and confident stride.

The door slammed behind them, and the meeting began. Kenshin was left with nothing to do but listen to the outcry of the ailing city and try to ignore the lingering scent of white plum perfume.

-x-

Ikumatsu set a tray filled with eight cups of tea down in the center of the table, each cup emitting a trail of warm vapors that, for some illogical reason, set Katsura Kogoro to thinking of dragonsmoke. _Appropriate_, he thought, slyly; as the eight men present represented the dragons of his division; the fiercest and most noble of the Choshu-Satsuma leadership. _And this alliance is just the magic needed to turn the smoke into flame._

It was risky, bringing them all together under the same roof. If the Shinsengumi had somehow found out his plans, and descended upon the building in force like a pack of hungry wolves, the conflict might end that very night with a Shogunate victory.

In the end, though, he had decided that the risk had been worth it. All great successes required an inherent amount of hazard.

For what it was worth, Katsura exercised as many precautions as he could. That meant utilizing not only the former Battousai Himura Kenshin, but also his current hitokiri Shishio Makoto (a man only Shinsaku of his inner circle even knew existed) as guards and gate keepers to keep any uninvited guests out. While some of the Choshu hierarchy were older and out of practice with the sword, more habituated to giving orders and devising strategies than to cutting down men left and right—Katsura knew that the youths could fight at the highest level. It only made sense that he set the doorway with his two most deadly weapons.

If the Shinsengumi were going to interrupt their meeting, they would face no fewer than ten swords unwilling to go down without a fight. If nothing else, it would certainly provide a bloodbath.

Initial pleasantries and introductions were exchanged, though in reality everyone here knew every face sitting around the table. The introductions seemed like meaningless formalities, part of the necessary dance done to ensure no important parties felt insulted. However, Katsura understood that the niceties were actually important here; hundreds of years of violent history stood like a ten-foot thick wall between the two domains, a wall that Sakamoto Ryoma was trying to tear down with a stone hammer and his bare hands. It was a goliath task, and Katsura needed this alliance to materialize.

The dragon-smoke tea was helping, warming the men's bodies and spirits from the early spring chill. Among beverages, Katsura regarded tea secondmost only to sake in the ability to strengthen the bonds of compassion and friendship.

He felt Ryoma's eyes on him; staring with piercing clarity, as if judging to see whether Katsura was up to the challenge. Ryoma was a puzzle; a political mastermind; an intellectual; a man of few words. To be perfectly honest, he intimidated Katsura. A good man to have on his team, but what exactly were the motivation that drove this man of Tosa so hard to unify Choshu and Satsuma? Was he simply that much ahead of the game politically?

But enough of him… Looking towards Saigo and Okubo, Katsura straight-away turned the topic of conversation towards the important subject at hand. He chose his words carefully and somewhat slowly, hoping he would not come off as sounding unintelligent or, even worse, overly proud.

"The fact that you leaders of Satsuma have heeded our summons and came peacefully to our headquarters shows us that you hold at least some interest in our ideals, in the prospect of an alliance." His smile felt forced.

Saigo answered, his voice surprisingly delicate for a man of his size. "Don't get me wrong, Kogoro. I'm never going to like you or your Choshu scum. You think far too highly of yourselves, with far too much misplaced ambition. Too stupid-proud." He stopped speaking and looked around as if he wanted to spit on the floor before sighing and continuing.

"But, these are not normal times. As much as it pains me to say it, Sakamoto is right in trying to bring us together, and us at Satsuma have came to see you Choshu men as the current lesser of the two evils. The Tokugawa regime has proven itself to be an incompetent leading party; Japan under them has withered in stagnation a thousand levels below the Western powers. At this rate, our great nation will be doomed to domination by some European power! A colony! A slave state! We must retain our identity! The Tokugawas have lost all sense of Japanese pride, corrupted by their own possessions and the easy lives they have led. Restore the power of the Emperor, I say! He's guidance is assuredly more wise than Tokugawa's who cares only of his house and his wealth. Change must come, and, dare I say it, an alliance with Choshu is a small price to pay for winning back our freedom."

The Choshu side of the table was smiles almost all the way around. Only Shinsaku, who held such strong feelings of resentment towards the Satsuma crew he would never succumb to reason, didn't look pleased. His silence was the best outcome they could hope for from him; Katsura was pleased enough he wasn't standing on the table and shouting obscenities at Saigo and Okubo. He struggled to stay calm. It was coming together!

"Exactly!" exclaimed Ito, audible from amid the bubble of excited murmers. "Let us grow, let us develop, but as Japan! Tokugawa is failing us, and must go. We can promise numbers," said Ito, "numbers and passion! And some of the best swords you've ever laid eyes on! The very best Choshu has to offer."

"And in exchange, Satsuma can use its trade connections to import more modern weaponry for both of our uses. It is a win-win situation." Saigo was intelligent, of course he could see exactly how badly Choshu needed western firearms.

Of course, the details of the agreement didn't solidify that quickly or easily. The eight talked into the night, sharing ideas and fears, making plans of conquest, and simply enjoying the company of others that more-or-less shared the same political views. Eventually the tea was passed over for sake (the good stuff, from Katsura's personal supply), and the four Choshu became eight, a grand coalition of Choshu, Satsuma, and Tosa.

The alliance was forged.

-x-

Ten after midnight, and he found himself gagging on the sake he poured for himself as if it were poison. It made Kenshin think about his master, the things he would say about being ill at heart. How sickness of the spirit would eventually manifest itself as sickness of the body, a dislike for sake. It would have been easier if he were really sick. Find a doctor; treat it; get better or get worse. Stagnation was hell.

His disease was incurable, that much he was sure about.

Why? Why couldn't he just return back to the inn he was calling home after the meeting had ended? He never should have let curiosity get the better of him; it was a mistake to follow the noises he had heard down a path several blocks away. No one had cleared the bodies away yet.

She looked like Tomoe.

Not just a slight resemblance, either. To tell the truth, she could have been her sister. Her twin.

Her neck had been hacked so deeply that her head was nearly severed from her body, but not even that could hide the mortified, accusing look in her eyes. The ugly war claims yet another victim. Another body, a man's, lay by her side.

It was impossible to determine who was the perpetrator. Shinsengumi? Shogunate? Choshu? Perhaps that new assassin Katsura had told him about… At least Kenshin knew that it wasn't by his hand, at least not this time, but really that didn't help the way he was feeling. Even though he was no longer acting as hitokiri, he was still a killer; the next corpse would likely be caused by him…

_Why WAS he involved in this ugly war_, he wondered again. To usher in an era of peace and equaliy; to change the world; to protect the poor and the weak. _How was this helping?_ In order to change society, people had to die. Those who opposed Choshu wouldn't just give up and lay down arms without a fight; the revolution had to be fought for the changes to be actualized. _Was it worth it?_ If he didn't fight, the world wouldn't change, peace would never come, and the lowly poor would continue to be exploited and denied rights. If he did fight, innocents like this woman (_like Tomoe!_) would continue to die; blood would be on his hands and the hands of his comrades. There was no correct answer. Nothing seemed worth it. Everything choice he could make was wrong.

Just thinking about it made Kenshin's head ache. He took another deep sip of the sake and tried to pretend he wasn't weeping.


	2. Traitor

_A/N _**(warning for one paragraph in the last third of the story that briefly mentions suicidal thoughts). **

_-x-_

_Damn it all. _

Katsura Kogoro found himself cursing under his breath as Ikumatsu poured him a third cup of tea. Although he had hoped it would bring him focus, he was still reeling in quiet panic.

"Would you like anything else, my love?" Ikumatsu asked, the concern evident in her voice.

_If only I could stare at her for the rest of my life, I'd never have a reason to be stressed again…She can read me so well; I can hide so many things from my warrior subordinates, but she sees through all the lies so effortlessly. Women. Why aren't there more of them in our ranks? We try so hard to be perfect, but nothing can defeat a woman's intuition. _

He sent her away with a shake of his head, feeling oddly detached.

"Just some time alone to think things through, please."

She bowed and left the room.

As soon as she left, the chaos returned to his head. _This wasn't supposed to be happening! _Only a few hours ago he was celebrating what promised to be the most important accomplishment of his campaign to date, but now the pride and satisfaction he felt at the alliance with Satsuma was falling away as quickly as it had come.

_Why do I ever dare to hope that the tide of the war is turning in my favor? Am I that stupid?_

When things went wrong, they went wrong in waves, and this new development threatened to become a roiling tsunami that could bury the fledgling Satcho force if it was not dealt with harshly and immediately. Time was important here to minimize the damage already done. Now was not the time for panic or second-guessing. It was the time for action.

Three quarters of an hour after the Satcho meeting had disbanded, one of his informants had found him at his residence as he was relaxing with Ikumatsu.

The frantic words he told him were distressing—Saeki Matasaburo was dead, found murdered next to a local woman only a few blocks away from the inn where the meeting was taking place. He had been killed in an alleyway on a dark side-street, with no living witnesses left to shed light on the crime.

To anyone else it looked like just another soul snuffed out anonymously on the Kyoto streets; a typical everyday occurrence during these troubled times, except for one very important detail—Saeki had an unusual occupation: he was employed by Katsura as a Choshu spy that had infiltrated the Shinsengumi.

An important pawn had been removed from board.

Katsura had taken several long months (and unsuccessful attempts) before managing to establish a spy within the ranks of the Shinsengumi, and Saeki was the perfect man for the job; loyal, patient, quiet. A great soldier; the type of man Kogoro trusted sincerely not to double-cross him because he was so good at taking orders. For all the work Katsura had gone to, it had been worth it, as he had learned more details about the plans and workings of the Shinsengumi than ever before. His death would be a difficult loss to accept.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, not by a long shot.

In addition to news of the murder, his informant also brought him a note, left conspicuously with the murdered corpse. A note that cast suspicion on nearly all of Kogoro's associates; a note that would prove responsible for many sleepless nights in the future.

The handwriting on it had been sloppy, as if it had been done quickly under duress; Katsura wondered which one of them had written it. Kondo? Saitou? Okita? Hijikata?

_Kogoro—here's your filthy spy! Enjoy your new alliance, while it lasts. New friends can be difficult to play with, especially when you don't know whom to trust. Looks like we resume command of the spy game. Your move._

They were taunting him! He knew the note was created purposefully for his eyes as a brash display of Shinsengumi superiority. It was meant to get under his skin and make him question his abilities as a leader.

It was Katsura's job to make sure the pieces of the Choshu puzzle fit together as flawlessly as they could; he was used to the fact that unexpected setbacks frequently caused chaos. Sometimes the challenge was to find the missing piece, other times it was throwing out a piece that just didn't fit. He could deal with it, he told himself.

_Damnit. Damnit Damnit. This changes things in a big way. Now I have to be careful of the inner circle of my own regime; one of them does not fit in my puzzle._

Only the attendees of the meeting knew about the Choshu-Satsuma alliance in advance; Eight men, (plus Kenshin, he supposed—if he was worth counting. Katsura had told Shishio nothing), and apparently one of them was double dipping for the Shinsengumi. He knew whom he trusted. Shinsaku. Ito, to a lesser extent. The men whom he considered friends, as they had been with him the longest.

And Himura. Also Himura. Not an evil bone in that youngster's body. He would be easy to find, too, even in the middle of the night, because he was one of the most predictable men he knew. He would be at the inn where Katsura had arranged for him to stay, probably trying to drown the ghosts of his past with sleep or alcohol.

Himura. That's whom he would contact first; have him assisting in the search at first light. Himura Kenshin.

Who, as it turned out, just happened to pick that night to go missing…

-x-

At least two dozen clamorous voices added to the harsh clink of dishes and glassware to give life to the night at Inoki's place. Midnight was prime; and the bar was filled with pretty ladies and wild men, all dressed to impress. The sort of dive one would have to know about in order to find, Inoki's was a hotspot for gamblers, prostitutes, drug addicts, and just about anyone involved in less acceptable activities in the Kyoto area.

It was a great place to hide.

"See!" The old man was at his stories again, practically shouting to be heard above the din. "Taro-san! Look, I wasn't kidding ya! The tooth, see, I told ya, it's gone!"" A fat, pink thumb stretched the veiny skin of his cheek out, showing off the inside of his unclean mouth and the bloody spot in his gums where the old man's tooth had once been. Disgusting. Just by looking at it, one could guess how rotten it smelled.

"I told ya dat gal was a firecracker! But she was worth it! Yee-haw! Punched me right to the kisser." Slapping his leg, the old man keeled over in guffaws, winking drunkenly at the crowd. Spit visibly flew from his mouth as he laughed. The others at the table howled with him.

The man not named Taro cringed but smirked, trying his best to blend in with the crowd. It did feel good to be laughing again, even if everyone here was three times his age and a third his maturity; soft-shelled, disgusting perverts—undisciplined weaklings, every one of them. He could take them all down with his eyes closed.

It would feel even better if he were allowed to pick a fight, do something to release this pent-up energy. He'd love to kill a man just to smell the iron in his blood. But that wasn't going to happen, not tonight anyway. Katsura had instructed him to be as invisible as he could in order to not stand out, and Shishio Makoto intended to follow his commands down to the letter. He was far too skilled to risk his future by blowing his cover (just yet). Ha.

He had to stick to his plan.

_Taro! Really!_ God, sometimes Katsura just made him seethe! Shishio was proud of the name he had made for himself and its meaning (a marvelous name, a name fit for prophet!), and the fact that Katsura had picked his cover name to be something so plain and boring as damned Taro—just seemed even more like a personal insult. _Taro…seriously_?

The same old man (Tetsuo? Tetsuya? Shishio couldn't even remember with certainty, but instead identified him by his long off-white moustache and greasy bald head) had settled into yet another tall tale, ignoring the face that nobody in the vicinity was even listening. (A roach! Can ya'lls believe that! A roach in his ear after six months ear-ache, my son-in-law practically went deaf before they found out. Blah blah blah blah…)

_I can't believe Katsura is making me associate with these moronic imbeciles._

At the subtle signal of his raised glass, the waitress (a pretty little thing with heavy bangs and thin lips), filled his cup again with sweet warm sake. After quaffing half the glass straight away, he was finally beginning to feel the pleasant glow from the alcohol relaxing away the edge of his anger, when an urgent voice woke him from his reverie.

"Taro-san! Taro-san, K-san sent me with a message for you! Sorry it's so late, it took me a long time to find you, please don't be mad…" The go-betweener recoiled back, as is he was afraid the hitokiri was going to strike him. He already had a bruise on his nose.

Without listening to the rest of his story, Shishio snatched the envelope roughly out of the youth's hands, the anger at Katsura flaring up its ugly head once again. _Damned Kogoro, asking more from me already_. It had been miserable enough serving guard duty that evening aside Battousai; he had spent most of his time obsessively trying to keep his ki in check as to avoid detection. It was idiotic. If it was so important to keep his identity a secret, why intentionally expose himself to the one person most likely to pick him out?

Within the envelope were several banknotes and silver coins; payment enough to support him through the rest of the month on the meager lifestyle followed by a hitokiri in hiding. The money didn't really matter to Shishio—not at this point in his career, anyways. As long as he could afford to eat and replace his clothing when it got soaked with blood, that was enough; the rest would come later. Now was the time to find fame and notoriety, to make an impression on the higher-ups, to learn everything he could about his superiors and the system. Set deep roots. Bide his time. Make connections. Money and power would come later, after the war was over and the phase of rebuilding had begun.

The second item in the envelope was a smaller envelope, black and blank on the outside. Shishio knew what it was instantly, feeling paranoid and looking over his shoulder to make sure no one with looking. It was an alcohol-fueled mistake to open the package here; someone might see, someone might know. _Stupid, stupid_; if he kept this up he'd get caught…He needed to get out somewhere more private.

A few minutes later, alone in his small rented room above Inoki's, Shishio Makoto carefully untied the string holding the envelope closed, wondering whose fate would be sealed in ink. It would be a black card within the black envelope, a single name written on it in white.

Except that it wasn't.

The card was black all right, but instead of a single name, an entire message was written in Katsura's delicate script.

"_T— Emergency matters. To the point: you're on call because I have misplaced Himura; There is a Shinsengumi spy within my inner circle. Few that I can trust but especially not the Satsuma or Tosa leaders. Extremely important the spy is found and dealt with. If you find Himura tell him to see me immediately. I'm worried he may be in danger. The spy must die; he may be difficult to oust. Hassle the Shinsengumi. Take out a captain; it does not matter which one. Shinsaku and I will be working the problem from different angles, but your anonymity could be valuable in this situation. Listen. Don't be stupid. Check back with me tomorrow night in person. Under no circumstances are you to expose your cover to anyone –K._

Shishio's lips slowly curled up into a smile. Tomorrow his blade would quench its thirst.

-x-

The soldier formerly known as the great Battousai the Manslayer sat perched on the edge of the bridge, his bare feet dangling loosely above the meandering creek. Seven days ago the water had been frozen, though now it was bubbling vigorously, full of life as it ran down its meandering path to the sea. The taste of spring was palpable on his tongue; it wouldn't be long now and the cherry blossoms would be blooming, filling the park with beauty.

It would be his first spring since that fateful winter night…

The peaceful ambience could not clash more severely with the despair in Kenshin's heart.

Midnight had brought a fit of restlessness down upon him, and he followed the black spot in his conscience back out to the murder site, only to find the streets cleared. Only the ghosts remained, begging for blood.

Yasuko. Her name had been Yasuko. Peasant-born, a meek young lady without a last name to call her own. Not Yukishiro Tomoe, nothing like Tomoe , except that she was pretty, young, and dead. Speaking with the neighbors that lived near the scene of the murder, he found she was married to a mediocre merchant that made his money selling fish at the market. She had two young sons, and always seemed like a courteous and devoted wife to the neighbors. Nothing particularly interesting about her backstory, just a typical civilian, the type that he could never see himself targeting. Women and children should be left out of the bloodshed.

Still, not everyone was as careful as Himura was with human life; plenty of innocents have died anonymously in the conflict. There were too many young people with their whole lives ahead of them destined to be forgotten by the paths of history, too many unmarked graves. As a hitokiri, he was usually only given a few names at a time; to an extent, he could be selective about who he murdered. He would never kill an innocent woman—he told himself— (except for that one time, that one time that keeps haunting him).

Of course, the man had been the true target, and the young lady only an unfortunate piece of bad luck, a local who had stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. No one seemed to know the male victim's name or affiliation, though he did not wear a uniform, and Kenshin thought he was likely Satcho. Based on that, Kenshin could hazard a guess that the killer was Shinsengumi, but he wasn't at all sure, and had no proof.

Even worse was the thought of the woman's young children, now fated to live their entire lives without their mother's support. How had the weight of it all not crushed him before? Every proud warrior Battousai had killed in the conflict likely left behind someone, a wife, a son, a mother. The thought of a thousand grieving Tomoes tugged him down deeper and deeper in an inescapable spiral.

He tried to remember the ferocious courage he had felt when he had left his master; how confident he had been that the world could change, that his sword could help forge a new era. Instead, he felt as if each swing made the era darker and darker.

It was painful enough that he had killed so many—two hundred, maybe close to three hundred when all was said and done—but, from there the effects of his monstrous murders spread out like a poisonous spiderweb across the entire countryside, affecting thousands who lost spouses, family, friends, children. How could it ever be conceivable to atone for that much blood?

_It wasn't_, the voice of reason within him whispered. The best way you could avenge their murdered souls would be to bring their murderer to justice. If they called out for blood, give it to them. His sword felt very cold at his side. For the first time, he found himself wondering what the process of seppuku would feel like. If it would end quickly. The aftereffects of the alcohol he had drunk the night before (_and into the day_, he thought glumly) were still hammering away in his head. An empty bottle lay at his feet.

A woman's inhuman scream pulled Kenshin out of these dark thoughts with the shock of a drowning man being rescued from a freezing lake. Of course, his first thought was back to Tomoe, back to the night he killed her, but then he shook that ghost away and stood up at full attention.

A violent spectacle was playing out in the center of the field before him; a crowd had already gathered to watch as a ruffian tossed a woman into the dirt by her hair and began shouting obscenities at her.

"You dirty whore! I loved you!" The man's voice was disfigured by alcohol and tears. "Why," he wailed, "why did you sleep with him? Why? Tell me, damn it. Whore! You were supposed to be my wife! I loved you!" The circle of onlookers remained motionless, but Battousai was running, trying to close the difference. He already had enough female blood on his hands to watch another girl die today.

The disgruntled lover continued to shriek and started kicking the young woman so hard Kenshin could hear the meaty snap of breaking bones. Sobbing, the female tried to stand up and run, but she tripped before she had even managed to take a proper step, and the husband was on her again.

Rather, he would have been, if not for the flash of red as a sword was thrust through his shoulder and twisted, bringing the man down in a heap of quivering flesh and bone. Kenshin stopped on a dime as he saw the iconic white mountain-top triangle pattern on the sleeves of the blue uniform, and realized exactly whom he was dealing with.

Shinsengumi. And not just one.

A group of four uniformed members broke up the gathered crowd with threats and angry gestures. Three of them were men he recognized: the one that had actually done the deed was Okita Souji, now sheathing his katana and speaking energetically with his comrades. Two other magnificent swordsmen added to the quartet: Nagakura Shinpachi, commander of Shinsengumi's 2nd Squad, and Saito Hajime, commander of the 3rd Squad. Both men stood proud and tall, with daisho worn conspicuously at their sides; very much ready to kill. The fourth was a man Kenshin did not recognize; short and slight of build with short hair cut at level with his ears.

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. Keeping the Kyoto peace was one of the tasks of the Wolves of Mibu, and Kenshin was relieved one of them had rescued the ailing woman. It was better than seeing her blood spilled on the ground.

But none of that changed that fact that Battousai would rather avoid a simultaneous fight with four Shinsengumi swordsmen; especially when his emotions were raging out of control and his head was still feeling the poisonous effects of the sake from the earlier morning.

Like he was walking on eggshells, he slowly turned around, trying to calm his heart, trying to slow the deep flow of his ki. Internally, he was cursing his red hair, oh how it made him stand out in this godforsaken city of black! With all his willpower, he found himself urging the four men not to look, to keep their attention on the recovering girl on the ground. Evening was settling in on the city, and the copse of trees that hid the bridge he was sitting on earlier seemed a safe enough sanctuary, if he could just make it that far. His tiptoeing did not seem nearly fast enough, but after what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the safety of cover.

Kenshin could stay here until the danger passed. He could spend all night listening to the babble of the little stream if he had to; the night air was chilly, but not unbearable.

Minutes passed, and day turned to darkness.

-x-

"You sensed him too, Saitou?"

Okita Souji was staring off into the darkness, into the direction that the red-haired man had walked off. The moon cast enough light that the young Shinsengumi member could just barely see the copse of trees on the edge of the clearing.

Saito nodded, staring in the same direction with equal intensity. "Battousai… Choshu filth. We kill him and we kill their morale; how is that to send a message back to Katsura Kogoro! Maybe we can mail him his precious manslayer's head as a victory gift! This is a chance we cannot pass up."

Nagakura chimed in, his spiky hair bobbing excitedly as he spoke. "You really think the Choshu would let their precious Battousai be out sleeping alone in some park on this side of the city? I mean, for us to find him seems like incredible luck, but doesn't this smell a bit like a set-up to you?"

Saito smiled at the older warrior. "I don't think so, not this time. Something doesn't feel right about him, that's certainly true, but I think it's more of a personal weakness than an intentional set-up. He's soft. Always has been. Cares too much about saving the world and not enough about his own personal well-being. Maybe he finally broke and wants us to put him out of his pathetic misery."

"You don't think, do you, that he's on the case trying to find the spy? Do you? I mean, this would be the right neighborhood where I killed Matasaburo last night. You know, if he's on to something, we can't let him live. This _will_ go down as the night Battousai dies. There's no way he could survive a four-on-one."

Tani Sanjuro, 7th Squad leader, always had annoyed Saito Hajime, and the fact that he had insinuated that none of them could beat Battousai man-to-man filled Saito with so much anger, he was half-inclined to kill him right then and there. He would rather prove his superiority one-on-one with the strongest of the Ishin Shishi, but sometimes the cause had to take precedence. Aku Sok Zan. Kill evil immediately. Battousai's fate was as good as sealed, for the good of the Shogunate and the good of the Shinsengumi. Choshu's best sword had to die.

-x-

A soft heavenly glow illuminated a quaint cabin in the woods, and Kenshin's dead bride stood in front of the doorway, her eyes soft and filled with tender emotion.

"Kenshin. Himura Kenshin. My love. My one and only." Tomoe's face was surrounded by clouds as she reached out a perfect porcelain hand to touch the scarred side of his face. He knew he was dreaming, but he wanted to believe it was real; he'd do anything to avoid waking up.

"Please don't forget me, Kenshin. Please don't forget that I died to protect you; I valued your life, Kenshin. Please, you need to cherish it as well." Her words turned into wails, and she slid out of view, crying. He could hear her soft footsteps as she floated to a place he could not follow.

FOOTSTEPS! Kenshin jumped awake in an instant, and not a moment too soon, as a silver slash shrieked past his head and into the bush next to him.

Okita cursed and turned, trying to find flesh, but by then Battousai had unsheathed his sword and blocked the attack with a metallic clang. Another blade came from the darkness, which he dodged, but did not see the third until it had grazed the flesh of his left upperarm, drawing blood. It was Saitou's blade, and it was all Himura could do to jump away from the attack before the katana tasted his neck. All four of them! How could he have let himself get corned with such stupidity!

Surprised and outnumbered, it took Kenshin a few moments longer than it should have to remember his training. He dismissed the urge to run full into battle with Ryu Tsui Sen, and instead turned tail and ran. _I'm faster than them_, he thought, with the possible exception of Okita Souji. Still, at least this way, if they catch me I'll be able to fight them one on one, instead of all at once.

Often the man who wins isn't the strongest, it is the one who is most intelligent.

In the dark, he didn't know which way he was running, and the lowest branches of the trees ripped at his face with vengeful ferocity. _They'll be able to follow me by the sound I'm making; I sound like a heard of elephants crashing through the brush._ He could hear them close behind, making just as much noise.

It seemed like a miracle when the canopy finally opened up above him, and he was once again out in the open, buildings in sight. Civilians scattered in front of him, screaming. He had nearly made it to the the buildings, and was planning to jump up on the low roof when Okita caught up with him. Kenshin turned to evade his opponent's thrust, and in response spun around to try and plant a Ryu Kan Sen. Somehow Okita managed to sidestep, but by now Saito had caught up—in his effort to change the direction of his momentum and land a gatotsu thrust on Himura, somehow he wound up bumping Okita off balance, which gave Battousai a chance to start running again.

A quick leap brought him up to the roof and he took off, trying to elongate his stride and max out his speed, knowing Okita likely was faster. The wound on his upper arm was bleeding, but it did not hurt, and he was not overly concerned that it was a serious injury. A quick glance behind showed him three men following—he saw no signs of the fourth, the short one that he didn't know.

He pressed on, leaping from the first building to another, feeling the pressure of Okita on his tail. Okita swung at him again just as he neared the far edge; Himura leapt to avoid it, and landed on the ground. He was just about to leap up again when he heard a loud shout from across the street.

"Battouuusaaaai! Battouuusaaaai! This way! Katsura sent me!"

A iron grate along the side of the road was swung up, revealing a rectangular hole in the ground, and two heads were visible peering up from the whole—one a dark-haired soldier dressed in Choshu red, the other a young boy of about 12. The older one was waving dramatically in encouragement and shouting.

The moment of distraction was enough, and this time Okita did manage to hit him hard across his left shoulder; a last-second twist had somehow saved Kenshin's neck from getting the worst of the damage. Blood flew as Kenshin yelped out in pain, simultaneously turning to perform a counterattack—this time his Ryu Kan Sen hit, and Souji was knocked against the building they had just jumped from. Now was his chance!

Saitou and Nagakura had, by now, caught up, and were only a few steps away as Kenshin sprinted towards the pit ahead. He dove in headfirst, rolling as his head connected with the muddy floor, not believing the two would be able to get the grate shut in time to avoid a nasty close-quarters fight with three Shinsengumi members. Oh well. At least it would be a three-on-three fight this time…

"Damn it, Yuuki! Lock the damned door! Do you f**ing WANT to die! I can only hold it closed for so long, kid!" The older one was trying to hold the gate shut as the heavyset boy was messing with the lock; meanwhile, Saitou was trying to pull the gate up with his fingers, and Nagakura was slashing down at the soldier's fingers and face with his katana. Kenshin sprang up to help.

"I got it, I GOT IT!" the kid shouted, tears streaking down his face and a look of pure unbridled terror in his eyes. He crashed down to the floor weeping.

The other two lept back in relief, following the underground passage further into the darkness. Kenshin's knuckles were bleeding, and he could see that the other man had also taken several gashes to his hands while trying to hold the gate shut_. He's older than me, but not by much. Young for a Choshu._ Then it hit Kenshin—the tight, fluffy ponytail high on his head, violet eyes…he recognized him!

"You're the guard from yesterday! Katsura sent you to find me in the middle of the night? Why? Who are you?" Kenshin felt confused. Had he missed out on something important?

"Taro Sho, Katsura's new personal security advisor. Now shut up, I'll tell you more later. We've got to get out of here; it won't take the Shinsengumi long to find another way down into the tunnels. Unless of course you'd rather stand your ground and fight! Ha!"

"And who's he?" Kenshin asked, pointing to the child.

"I'm, uh, Mochizuki Yuuki, uh, sir. And Taro kidnapped me! I'm the prison-master's son; he made me steal all the keys to the prison gates. We're underneath the jail now, sir. There's an entire network of tunnels under the city. Please get me out of here! I didn't want to be involved in any of this!"

A fierce glance (did his eyes just flash red?) from Taro quieted the frightened boy, but something unspoken had set Kenshin on edge. He kept up his guard, even though the air was quiet and the threat of Shinsengumi seemed all but forgotten. The tunnel continued on and on in front of them.

-x-

A/N

Thanks so much for reading my silly story.

Wow this was a difficult chapter for me to write!

I really struggled trying to write a believeable Shishio-I didn't want him to seem too soft, but he still turned out a bit different from RK Shishio; I don't see how going through such a horrific near death experience like he did wouldn't change him at least a little bit. At this point, I think the biggest difference between him and Kenshin is that everything Shishio does is for himself and his own ambitions (he values his own life above all others and doesn't give a shit about anyone else, except when it'll serve his goals), and that everything Kenshin does is for others (at this point, he really doesn't value his own life at all, but he wants to make life better for others, especially innocents).

Most of the seemingly random Choshu/Shinsengumi characters that show up in this story are historical figures (Tani Sanjuro, Nagakura Shinpachi, Saeki Matasaburo...)

Expect to see more Shinsengumi in the next chapter. They got unfairly rushed in this chapter and I know it. Also, Yuuki (fun girly name) is based on my friend's male pet bird who shares that name:) He's gonna show up more!

Also, I really should get a Beta; my grammar is not very good :( I'm trying though... I'm trying very hard!


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